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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27574688">Healing, and the Toll it Takes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Active_Imagination/pseuds/Active_Imagination'>Active_Imagination</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Loss, and Letters To Those Left Behind [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cobra Kai (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Kreese lives rent free in Johnny's mind, injuries, mild drug use (mostly as a placebo), suicidal self-destructive Johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:13:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27574688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Active_Imagination/pseuds/Active_Imagination</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmen tries to get Johnny the medical help he needs, but he still doesn't get the psychological help he needs.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carmen Diaz &amp; Johnny Lawrence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Loss, and Letters To Those Left Behind [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Healing, and the Toll it Takes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Johnny's plan didn't work. Kreese didn't kill him. </p><p>It wasn't that his mentor couldn't kill him. No. Johnny could no longer cling to the thought that Kreese actually cared for him, even if it was in a twisted kind of way. Kreese wanted Johnny to suffer, to survive and watch as he took Johnny's dojo, his kids, and twisted them into soldiers, so full of hate and aggression, too scared to feel fear.</p><p>Johnny was scared now. Decades of not allowing himself to be afraid, hating himself for being scared anyway, they took its toll. All he could feel was fear, more painful than his broken foot and bruised ribs. His throat was crushed, and even though it hurt to swallow, it hurt even more to breathe. </p><p>Alcohol didn't take away the pain. He didn't even remember getting it from the store, but there was a bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand, then another. He kept drinking, past the pain, past the memories, trying to reach the past as if it were at the bottom of a bottle or four. Drinking himself to oblivion, as if he could erase himself from the universe, or swap places in Miguel's hospital bed.</p><p>The world doesn't work like that. </p><p>Johnny woke to pain, and the faded smell of smoke. It hurt to open his eyes, but the carpet felt familiar. He was happy to stay on the floor, wishing the ground would swallow him whole, but there was a knocking at his door that demanded to be answered. </p><p>“Go away!” Johnny tried to growl, but it came out as a whisper, throat too swollen to barely make a sound. </p><p>“Johnny?” Carmen asked, still knocking on the door. Johnny jumped up, yelping as his leg almost gave out beneath him. He almost blacked out from the pain, but he closed his eyes and focussed on the task at hand. It took him more than a few seconds to get to the door, opening it quickly, scared Carmen would leave, but she was still there. </p><p>“Hey.” Johnny managed to choke out, as smoothly as he could, but his voice still sounded like gravel. He knew he must have looked a mess, but Carmen didn't flinch. He hid most of his body behind the door, craning his bruised neck, trying to stay in the dark, even though the sun was already beating down outside, far too bright. </p><p>“I was hoping you might come around for breakfast, then we can go see Miguel.” </p><p>“Is he?--”</p><p>“He's still a coma, and he's still in critical condition, but he's allowed visitors. I think he'd like to hear from you.”</p><p>Johnny blinked in surprise, trying to nod, but that caused too much pain. He tried to thank her, but the word got lost in his bruised throat. “Let me just clean up.” Carmen nodded, smiled, and started walking back to her apartment. “Don't leave without me!” Johnny called out as loud as he could, desperation making him beg. Johnny couldn't care about how weak it made him sound, he was too busy spitting out dried blood. </p><p>His apartment looked about as trashed as Johnny felt. His desk was singed, ash in the trash-can. His letters were gone. Johnny wished he could remember burning them, but he's done it so many times before, a memory of a memory. No matter how many times he tore them up, or threw them in the ocean, or watched them burn, there were always more letters. He lived to write them another day. Johnny honestly thought it would be different this time. </p><p>He was exhausted, but focussed on the hope that Carmen gave him. He had to be there, for when Miguel wakes up. Miguel could not be allowed to see the broken man that Johnny was, that he always was, before Miguel saw something in him that made him believe he could be better. </p><p>Johnny stripped, as carefully as he could, his clothes covered in blood and alcohol and grime. He pulled his jeans over his sneakers, but there was no way he could take off his sneaker, his foot had swollen up so much. So he ignored it, taking a cold shower to clean himself up the best he could. </p><p>The shower wasn't supposed to be cold, but the heater wasn't working, and Johnny couldn't bring himself to care. There was dried blood on his scalp, that tugged as he tried to rinse out his hair. There were bruises all over his body, a body that Johnny could barely believe belonged to him. His knee was jarred, even more so as he tried to keep his sneakered foot out of the shower. It all hurt like hell, but it was too much and not enough. Not enough for it to feel real, but too much to bear. </p><p>He switched off the shower, watching the pink grayish water as it swirled down the drain, trying to shake the image that he wanted to follow it. He wasn't going to dissolve, no matter how much he felt like it. He couldn't disappear, not with Miguel and Carmen waiting for him. </p><p>Getting dressed was slow and painful, but Johnny pushed himself to be as fast as he could, so scared that Carmen would change her mind. It was just sweats and a t-shirt, dark, so nobody would notice if he bled through them again. He didn't quite have the energy to fasten the laces of the sneaker on his good foot, so he just tucked them in, making sure not to trip as he hobbled over to Carmen's apartment, and knocked on the door politely. </p><p>“Come in.” That was not the answer Johnny was expecting. He opened the door, just a crack. </p><p>“Can we go see Miguel now, please?” Johnny knew he was begging, but the thought of seeing Miguel was the only thing keeping him going. Rosa was glaring at him, and he felt the urge to sit, cursing as his knee wouldn't bend. Then, Rosa started yelling at him, the words too fast and too foreign for him to understand. Johnny just sat there, internalizing every word he didn't understand, assuming she hated him for what happened to Miguel. </p><p>It wasn't until she slapped him upside the head, gently, that he found the courage to snatch a glimpse of her. Then he realized she wasn't yelling at him because of Miguel, not just because of that. She was angry the way Carmen was when Miguel get hurt. She was angry the way a mom gets angry at a son. She was angry at /him/ for getting hurt. She was worried. She cared. </p><p>Johnny broke. He was too dehydrated to cry. His throat too hoarse to really make a sound. His body shook as Rosa just held him. She smoothed his hair, kissing over the dried blood. He never really thought this through. That someone might actually care if he lived or died. But Rosa held him like she cared. And Carmen looked at him in a way he couldn't understand. </p><p>Then he remembered he didn't deserve to be comforted, so he pulled away, carefully avoiding the way Carmen looked at him. </p><p>“Please can we go see Miguel now.” Johnny begged, again, sounding more defeated than ever. He flinched, when Rosa stroked his hair, even as he leaned into the touch, cursing himself for his own weakness. The pity he saw flash across Carmen's face was unbearable. It was easier when she hated him. He knew how to handle that. “Please.”</p><p>“After you've had some breakfast, Johnny.” Carmen urged him, in a soft but firm tone. Johnny knew he couldn't argue, but he looked at the delicious breakfast, laid in front of him. He tried to take a bite, but it hurt to swallow. Johnny could focus on the pain, blanking everything else out, until he came back to himself, Rosa wafting a lit joint in front of his nose. He blinked, before looking at Carmen for permission. </p><p>“It might help with the pain.” Carmen gave him permission. She looked like she was hurting because he was hurting, but he knew how to handle pain. The physical pain, at least. He didn't want anything to take away the physical pain. He earned that. “It might help you eat, and we're not going to see Miguel until you've eaten something.”</p><p>Rosa took the first drag. Carmen dismissed the joint as it was offered to her, but she made a point of placing the joint in Johnny's lips, keeping eye contact as he took a drag. He held it in his lungs until it burned, until Carmen's voice reminded him to exhale. The look in her eyes, as her hand cupped his chin, it made his chest hurt even worse. </p><p>Johnny shrugged off her touch, passing the joint back to Rosa, avoiding that maternal look in Rosa's eyes. Everything he did was going to piss somebody off. So he shut up and ate cold eggs and toast. They tasted nicer than he deserved. </p><p>Johnny didn't have the energy to ask again, so he started to take the empty plates and rinsed them off in the sink. They were clean, but he didn't stop scrubbing until Carmen took his hand, an appreciative and understanding smile on her face, but sadness and pity in her eyes that Johnny couldn't accept. </p><p>Carmen led Johnny to her car, worried when he didn't insist on driving. Even more worried when he didn't even register the radio playing pop music from the naughties. </p><p>“Johnny, you keep disappearing on me.” Carmen placed a hand on his knee. “Please tell me what's going on in that head of yours.”</p><p>“We're going to see Miguel.” It was all Johnny had to say, so Carmen nodded, swallowing back the words she really wanted to respond with.</p><p>“Yeah, we are.” They didn't speak for the rest of the journey. Carmen bit her tongue until they were almost at Miguel's room. She saw Johnny's hands were shaking, and tried to still them with her own. “We don't have to see him if it's too much for you.”</p><p>“I have to.” Johnny insisted, but he never made it inside. Peering through Miguel's window, Johnny broke down, again. Crumbling in on himself, whimpering as his knee hurt so sharply it managed to briefly cut through the pain in his soul, too briefly. Seeing Miguel so unresponsive, looking so small in that hospital bed, machines working so hard to keep him stable, it was too much for Johnny could handle. </p><p>Johnny knew the world wasn't fair, but for a sweet soul like Miguel to be hurt so much. And for his boy to be the reason. Johnny felt guilty enough for the both of them, he wished he could take the guilt from Robby. He would do anything to make sure Robby and Miguel were safe and happy. </p><p>Carmen sat next to Johnny on the ground. Johnny looked away.</p><p>“I'm sorry.” Johnny sobbed, the words choking him. Carmen sighed. </p><p>“I can see that. I didn't before, but I can see it now.” Johnny didn't understand. “Why do you think you have to act like you're not hurting? That doesn't help anybody.”</p><p>“I can take a hit.” Johnny insisted.</p><p>“You shouldn't have to. Not alone.” Carmen tried to tell him, but Johnny wasn't ready to hear that. Life had taught him otherwise. “Please, let me help. Physically, at least. We are in a hospital.”</p><p>“I'm fine.” </p><p>“Your shoe is... leaking.” There was a dark red stain collecting at the sole. “You won't be able to teach karate if you only have one foot.”</p><p>“I can't teach karate anyway! Sensei Kreese –“ Johnny cut himself off, angry with himself for yelling at Carmen, but all Carmen saw was Johnny starting to open up, and let her in. She wanted in. He wouldn't let her. Couldn't, perhaps. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't shout. You've been so good to me. I know, you're just trying to help, but I'm...” Johnny trailed off. </p><p>“Johnny, please. You're hurt.”</p><p>“I earned this.” Johnny insisted, desperately, irrationally. “You can't fix me. I'll still be broken.” </p><p>“It takes time to heal, Johnny. But you're not going to heal properly if you just keep ignoring it. At least let me take you down to x-ray.”</p><p>Carmen managed to get Johnny into surgery, even though he had no insurance. The surgeon said the trauma was comparable to someone who had their foot run over by a car. Crushed bones that were poking through the skin. His foot had to be reconstructed, before being placed in a cast.</p><p>He was given saline and blood, and enough sedative to knock him out for most of the day. Even unconscious he looked haunted. </p><p>Johnny was disappointed to wake up, and Carmen was there to see it. She saw the pain on his face, but Johnny tried to hide it. </p><p>“Can we go see Miguel?” Johnny asked, again. </p><p>“Can you walk?” Carmen shot back, frustrated. She was hoping that Johnny would learn to take things a little easier, especially after surgery. No such luck. </p><p>It only got worse after that. Johnny's injuries healed over time, but his mind deteriorated. </p><p>Carmen tried to keep an eye on him, but she had a job, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that Johnny no longer had a job. He was always at the hospital during visiting hours, but he rarely went home at night. </p><p>Johnny stalked the dojo, watching his former students, watching as their knuckles became more and more bruised, and their eyes lose more and more of their humanity. Johnny became more and more desperate.</p><p>He was no longer drinking his comfort beer, but anything he could get his hands on. Anything to drown the guilt that threatened to consume him, the feeling of helplessness overwhelming, especially since he now cared. </p><p>Time passed. His cast came off, his knee stopped hurting when he walked. It didn't feel right, watching the bruises heal when he didn't feel like he was healing, not on the inside. He wanted to smash his foot with a sledgehammer, to see the bone, because the damage wasn't over. He didn't have the energy though. He told himself he lacked the courage.</p><p>He wrote to Robby a hundred times, but he always burned the letters. No words would ever make up for the fact he was too much of a coward to go see his son. History was repeating itself, merging into one, and Johnny wasn't lucid enough to follow the threads. He just wanted to sever them all. </p><p>Miguel was the last thread giving him hope, hope that everything would be okay if Miguel just woke up. If Miguel woke up, he'd be able to talk some sense into his former classmates, break them free from Kreese's teachings. If Miguel woke up, Robby could come home, and Johnny could become a better father. If Miguel woke up, he could tell Johnny that this wasn't all his fault. </p><p>It was a fantasy. Johnny knew that. But he clung to that idea like a drowning man clung to flotsam. </p><p>“Johnny.” Carmen called to him, as he was watching over Miguel. He was drunk, so he was swaying as he stood outside the door, always staying outside, watching through the window. Johnny shook his head, knowing what was coming. “Johnny, look at me.”</p><p>“Please don't.” Johnny begged, face stony, even as his voice cracked. </p><p>“I'm sorry, but I can't watch you torture yourself like this.” Carmen did sound sorry, Johnny had to give her that, so he tried to make it easier on her. </p><p>“I get it. You don't want me to see him.”</p><p>“You're not even talking to him, Johnny.” Carmen wiped away a tear, whilst Johnny refused to cry. “You're not talking to anybody. You're just... it hurts too much to see you like this.” Hurting Carmen was the last thing he wanted to do. </p><p>“I'm out of here. You won't have to see me again.” Johnny promised, such determination in his voice. He ignored Carmen crying after him, begging him not to do something stupid. </p><p>It wasn't stupid, to want to put an end to this. Johnny knew he had to kill Kreese, to free his kids whilst they could still unlearn his lessons. It was the only option he had left, even if it would destroy him. It was much easier to destroy than it was to heal.</p>
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